


A Thousand a Minute

by OnlyStraightForJongup



Series: Winged!b.a.p [1]
Category: B.A.P
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, An odd amount of soccer, Are they hybrids? Are they mythological creatures? Idk man i just like birds, Fluff, Flying, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-18 23:33:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15497274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlyStraightForJongup/pseuds/OnlyStraightForJongup
Summary: Their wings may be more trouble than they're worth, but that doesn't stop Youngjae from appreciating them.





	A Thousand a Minute

**Author's Note:**

> this may be the cheesiest, most self-indulgent thing i've ever written. also it's super obvious i got this idea while watching untact

“Uh…hello?”

Youngjae shifted and murmured something incomprehensible, pulled from sleep. He frowned. Only Daehyun would interrupt his well-earned nap. He and Jongup must be back from flying. 

Youngjae lifted one green-brown wing, wound it up in a figure-eight, and smacked him with it.

“Oh thank god, you’re alive!” It wasn’t Daehyun. 

Youngjae bolted up only to groan, his vision flashing white. “Who—who’re you?” he managed, his voice rough from sleep. “What’s going on?” He blinked until he could see, but waves of disorientation still crashed into him—dammit, he’d slipped into torpor. 

The stranger blinked. His mouth dropped open, but a beat of silence rang before he spoke. “I thought you were dead!” He was damn tall, his hair dark and half over his eyes. Pain radiated through Youngjae's forehead when he tried to watch him..

“Unfortunately not.” Youngjae pressed the palm of his hand to his temple and pulled his wings in closer, hunching his shoulders. It occurred to him vaguely—a pat on the shoulder rather than a palm strike to the nose—that he should maybe worry for his safety. “Really though, the fuck are you?”

“Oh, oh right!” The guy had a deeper voice, not on Yongguk or Himchan’s level, but somewhat near Youngjae’s own. It was considerably higher and cracked with his panic. “I’m Junhong. I’m working with Daehyun on a project, and he said to come over. I thought for sure I heard him call…”

“S’fine.” It really wasn’t. Youngjae squinted up at him. Junhong’s long (long) legs blocked his reach to his sugar water. Dammit. Nausea swirled through his stomach at the thought of the sickly sweetness on his tongue, but he needed it to recover. “Move, will you?” 

Junhong’s hands played with the hem of his shirt, his eyes stuck on Youngjae. Asking the kid to grab his bottle wasn’t worth the effort. 

When Youngjae’s words registered, Junhong stumbled a couple steps back, almost tripping over their side table. Youngjae swiped his drink with a shaking hand, and the relief was near instantaneous, though it was followed by the awareness that he wasn’t anywhere near one-hundred percent. He forced more down and glanced at his phone. Whoops. His short nap had lasted over four hours.

“I have no clue where Daehyun is,” he told the guy. Junhong. “I’m Youngjae, his roommate.” Daehyun had gone flying hours ago. As always, he’d offered Youngjae the perfunctory ‘you should come!’ 

As always, he’d denied the invitation.

Youngjae wasn’t about to kill the mood by sitting on the ground with his useless-ass wings, not when Daehyun’s fear and panic and disappointment when Youngjae failed at flying was scorched into his memory.

“Are you, like, okay?” Junhong’s eyes ran over the bottle, with all its markings and stickers and measurements. Youngjae sucked at managing his energy levels almost as badly as his metabolism did, but it was necessary. He tired quickly without his dissolved sugar.

That was one of the many problems caused by wings that moved faster than the eye could see. To maintain them, his metabolism worked in a senseless overdrive.

“You weren’t breathing.” Junhong looked about ready to lunge for Youngjae, should he fall from the couch.

Youngjae rolled his eyes. “I was breathing, just slowly. I was in torpor.” Junhong likely wouldn’t know what that was, but well, he didn’t feel like beating around the bush. 

“You… were hibernating?” At least he was close. Torpor slowed Youngjae’s metabolism to conserve energy. When he’d all but fallen from the sky twenty minutes into flying with Daehyun, he’d dropped into torpor for nearly a full day, despite how Daehyun had force-fed him sugar. As a teenager, he'd once spent three days going in-and-out of it. He never wanted that to happen again.

But that wasn't on the table to tell Junhong, and so Youngjae ignored the question in favor of more drinking. His headache had near faded. “Kinda. Anyway, want me to call Daehyun? I expected him to be back by now.”

“Nah, it’s fine. I’ve got nothing to do.” Junhong took a seat next to Youngjae. His long black wings hung over the edge of the backless sofa. They folded very...flat, and Youngjae struggled to categorize them.

They were thin and long enough that he had to be a dynamic flier, but the feathers were thick and tight on his back. Something was wrong with them? Youngjae couldn’t tell.

“I don’t fly.” 

Youngjae started. “What?”

“You were staring, wondering why my wings look weird. Was easy to guess.” He ruffled them as he spoke. The waterproofing made them oily, almost wet-looking.

“Sorry.” Youngjae dropped his gaze to his hands. He clenched them together on his lap, pretending they were interesting. 

Junhong shrugged one shoulder. “Happens. This means I get to ask you something too though.”

Youngjae supposed it was only fair. “Shoot?”

“What type are yours? I don’t recognize them.”

Common question, uncommon answer. Youngjae’s voice fell flat even as he returned Junhong’s look. “Hovering.” 

Junhong’s face took on the awkward, half-shocked expression he had long grown used to. He dubbed it the ‘I’ve learned about you in class but never actually met someone like you’ look. It wasn’t that hovering wings were rare overall, per se, but they weren’t common in this part of the country. Youngjae had never met another person with them, not even his birth parents. 

Junhong recovered quicker than most. “Explains why you could smack me when I was behind you.” He grinned at Youngjae and flashed a dimple. /p>

“That’s the plus-side,” Youngjae agreed. Daehyun had long ago learned how to avoid the greater range-of-motion associated with his smacks, but Youngjae still managed to get him occasionally. 

He shook out his feathers, the green catching some of the natural light flooding in from the open window. Junhong watched his wings with a look of almost awe. Youngjae got it. Hovering wings were covered a lot in culture classes; they had a lot of unique things about them. Add that to their local rarity, and Youngjae got some second glances. 

They were annoying. Even more so because he was broken. He'd trade hovering wings for a pair that he could actually fly with any day.

Youngjae raised an eyebrow, and Junhong cringed back, chagrined. He shifted away as though Youngjae would break if he blew on him.

“I’m not glass; stop staring.”

They were considering fragile, with hearts that slammed out double the normal pulse while at rest and well-past triple speed when they flew. 

He couldn’t maintain a thousand beats a minute with all the sugar water in the world, hence the collapsing and torpor and all that. As a child, he'd been able to, but as the years were buried behind them, so was his flying ability. 

It wasn't a big deal, really. Just not good friendly conversation.

“I thought you were dead. Would you have died if I didn’t wake you up?” Junhong looked stricken by the idea, and Youngjae did his best to ignore how his tone had gone from normal to speaking-with-the-terminally-ill. 

“Nope, I would’ve woken up soon anyway. Totally normal.” Not exactly healthy for him but so it goes. This wasn’t a rare occurrence.

“Should you be eating something? For energy?”

“Only if you’re cooking.” Junhong only blinked. Youngjae snorted and waved his sugar water. “Got all I need. Stop looking at me like I’ll keel over.”

Junhong looked away, his face going red. At least he didn’t try to deny it. 

“So that’s—nectar?” Junhong frowned at his bottle.

“Sugar water. Powdered nectar tastes like shit.” And was expensive as hell, but that was another rant. “So anyway, what’re you doing with Daehyun? I didn’t realize he had group projects?” 

Youngjae had chosen that for a safe topic, but Junhong’s wings drew in tighter, like he wanted to take up less space. Despite that, his voice was very calm. “I’m in his section of Wings and Culture. We had to measure some take-off stats for wing types, and he offered to let me do his.” 

Youngjae hummed. Daehyun was still a teacher’s assistant for that course; it made sense he’d offered to help. “At the risk of asking a stupid question, aren’t those gliding wings?” He nodded at Junhong’s wings. Youngjae had never met someone else who couldn't fly but had no clear injuries. 

“Nah, they are—I say I don’t fly to be… I dunno… succinct? I can only take off from water. Takes me forever to get lift, and I can’t just beat my wings off the ground.” He looked a little nervous to admit his original words had been misleading. Youngjae didn't take the time to decide whether he should care. 

“I say that too—that I can’t fly.” So what if he was possibly-maybe-probably oversharing? Junhong didn't seem to mind. “It’s really that my metabolism hikes up so far I can’t maintain it unless I drown myself.” He poked his bottle. Youngjae had cut himself off when it became obvious he'd eventually lose the ability entirely. He'd rather preserve his good memories of flight than bury them in the bad.

Despite how Junhong had gotten so concerned about Youngjae dying or whatever before, he didn’t offer any condolences besides a brief, empathetic hum. It was nice. Youngjae was used to people reacting as though not flying was the worst thing imaginable. 

A crash shook the apartment, and Junhong jumped, his eyes darting up as though he could see through the roof. “Storm?” His brows furrowed, but Youngjae only chuckled. It wasn’t thunder. 

“Youngjae!” Sure enough, as soon as the pounding stopped, Daehyun’s voice came from upstairs, along with the sound of a window closing. Daehyun’s preferred start to flight was jumping from the window, and he had practiced until he could return the same way. It had taken him forever to get it right, feat a few crashes into the side of their apartment.

Any minute Jongup would come up the stairs too, possibly with Yongguk and Himchan. 

When Youngjae didn’t answer, Daehyun yelled again. “Youngjae! You still kicking?”

He snorted. That was Daehyun’s way of asking if he’d given up on consciousness. “Someone has to entertain the kid you forgot about.” He barely raised his voice, knowing Daehyun could hear him easily enough.

“Fuck!” Daehyun thudded down the stairs. “Hey, Junhong, I’m so sorry—I totally forgot.” 

He was shirtless and covered in sweat, still panting. His hair was a complete mess, and Youngjae spotted a twig poking out from it. Daehyun believed it made him look ‘ruggedly handsome,’ as he put it, but really, he needed a shower.

His huge wings, both broad and some of the longest wings Youngjae had ever seen, were pulled open enough for the air to course through them. They were mostly black, though the high feathers on his underwings were white. It took him forever to cool down post-flight. 

“It’s fine. It’s been nice.” Junhong’s eyes migrated over to Youngjae, and he smiled, showing off that dimple again. It was contagious.

Daehyun looked so pleased that Youngjae narrowed his eyes. 

“That’s good!” Daehyun clapped his hands together. “You ready to measure take off? We can go outside.”

Junhong nodded. “Yeah, I’ve got everything.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Uh—thanks again—”

Daehyun waved him off. “Glad I could help. Youngjae, you should come too.” 

He was getting the feeling Daehyun had planned this meeting. Idiot. Youngjae would’ve been angry at the manipulation, but well, Junhong was sweet. “Sure.” He got up without a fuss, and Daehyun’s smile grew even more triumphant. Fuck. Youngjae would have to give him a bad time later—couldn’t have Daehyun getting too smug.

The door opened before he could say anything else, and Jongup entered, also shirtless and even dirtier than Daehyun. His short, broad wings were pulled open to air out. Youngjae couldn’t help but stare; though he lived with Jongup, this wasn’t a common sight. 

His closed wings were a solid greenish blue, but there was a hidden, brilliant red visible across his flight feathers when he opened them. Jongup had some of the most beautiful wings he’d ever seen. They weren’t fit for long flights, but he could jump and soar his way through trees, until he was only a flash of crimson against the pine canopy. 

Junhong’s eyes stuck hard to Jongup’s wings, though Jongup didn’t seem to notice his astonishment. Youngjae got it. He kind-of loved Jongup’s wings. 

Daehyun slapped Jongup on the shoulder as he passed. “Stop showing off.” As though he meant for everyone to ogle his wings. Jongup only hummed and stretched out his arms until one of his joints cracked. Daehyun threw a look back at Junhong. “You ready?”

**

“Don’t tell me Youngjae roped you into a game.” Daehyun was sprawled across the floor, his oversized wings stretched to take up half the damn room. His hair had dried from his shower, but his wings still dripped onto the fluffy white towel under him.

Youngjae rolled his eyes. “Some people like to have fun.” He stepped around Daehyun's extended primaries.

Daehyun eyed the soccer ball in Junhong’s hands. “Not when it’s only fun for you.” He lifted his chin higher. “No offense, kid, but you’ve got no chance.” 

Junhong's smile didn't falter. “That’s okay.” 

Youngjae couldn’t help but grin back at him, even as Daehyun snorted. 

He didn’t mean it, but it stung. Youngjae was damn good at soccer, mostly because both his depth perception and reflexes were considerably enhanced. His wings and the adaptations that came with them made Youngjae good at precious few things, including his wings' main purpose, so it meant a lot when his friends indulged him. Even as a child, he'd chosen soccer over flying, only leaving a real team once it became clear his teammates regarded his talent as cheating.

Daehyun’s teasing wasn’t meant to take away from his experience, and so Youngjae said nothing and forced a smile. It wasn’t that deep.

Junhong trailed after him when he couldn’t help but increase his pace. At first to get away from Daehyun but then maintained by pure excitement. Youngjae hadn’t had the chance to play in the longest time.

He swung his ever-present water bottle and grinned at anyone they walked past. The sun beat down on the field, already too warm for spring. Some sweat dotted Youngjae’s face, and Junhong’s reflected it, a light sheen on his forehead. 

“You ready?” Junhong smiled at him.

Youngjae was already breathless. 

They started, and well, he creamed Junhong, to put it nicely.

But after, Junhong only smiled when Youngjae high-fived him, cheering obnoxiously and celebrating in a way that would’ve made Daehyun smack him. Junhong pulled him into a hug, and his gentle touch left Youngjae off-balance. 

Maybe his giddiness hadn’t only come from winning.

**

Youngjae was on his last life. He wasn’t doing anything particularly challenging, which made how he kept dying all the more frustrating. 

Except—he didn’t totally mind, at the same time. That was weird for him; he was used to complete and utter competitiveness.

Junhong was next to him, his head dropping forward as he began to fall asleep only to jerk awake. That was the fifth time that happened; Youngjae had kept count.

A sniper took his character out. “Fuck.”

Junhong blinked at the home screen. “Didn’t you say this level was easy?” 

“I liked you better when you were sleeping.”

He giggled and squeezed his eyes shut before reopening them. “Too bad, I’m up now.”

“You sure about that? Seems you’re struggling over there.”

A yawn interrupted whatever Junhong wanted to say. He pouted. “I can’t sleep now. You’re so close to—doing…the thing.” 

Youngjae laughed. “I’m really not,” he said. “You should sleep—but lay down first. You’re gonna fall off.” Their couch had no back to it, so their wings could hang comfortably over the edge. Youngjae had worried more than once that Junhong would tip off the edge.

“You don’t mind if I stay?” Junhong looked somewhat hopeful, and Youngjae couldn’t help but smile at him, his heart swooping in his chest.

“Nah, we’ve got enough room. I could get you a blanket for down here? Or there’s my room of course.” Youngjae stood, facing away when his cheeks darkened. His heart had sling-shotted through his chest at the thought of Junhong staying in his room. He willed it to slow down.

“I’m fine here.” Junhong’s voice was low. Fuck. He’d probably overstepped in suggesting his room and Junhong probably thought he was some predator— “Actually.” Junhong interrupted his thoughts. “This might not work.”

Youngjae turned around, eyebrows coming together at the amusement in his voice. He’d half-leaned towards where Youngjae had been sitting and even without him full-out laying down, it was clear he wouldn’t actually fit on the couch. Or at least, not in a way that wouldn't hurt a lot come morning.

A laugh escaped Youngjae before he could hold it back. “Guess we’re going to my bed then.” 

Junhong’s face lit up red. Youngjae pressed his lips together to hide his own embarrassment.

Instead, he pulled Junhong’s hand until he stood. Youngjae dragged him to his room, not pausing as they entered. Junhong’s eyes flickered around, and Youngjae tried to squash the persistent awkwardness around them.

He was pretty sure Daehyun had an air mattress somewhere. Youngjae could ask him. 

Or he could share a bed with Junhong, who looked sleepy and ruffled and cute, and yeah, no air mattress.

Youngjae sat on the edge of his bed. Would Junhong want to borrow clothes? Youngjae had a couple of oversized shirts but pants... He chewed on his lip and tried to think as Junhong stood unsurely in the middle of the room. Finally, Youngjae reached out, catching his hand and pulling him closer. They both wore relatively comfortable clothes, so maybe they just wouldn't change.

His heart jumped as Junhong sat next to him, and Youngjae had never felt so wide awake in his life. He bit his lip to hide a grin. “Lay down,” he murmured. Junhong twitched when Youngjae’s hand touched between his shoulder blades. “Can I preen you?” 

It was a normal enough question, something friends did for each other. He preened Daehyun like three times a week; there was absolutely no reason for Youngjae to blush while asking now. Junhong’s face matched his when he shifted to lay on his stomach. Youngjae slid over so he could lay flat. 

His shirt had a deeper cut than the style Youngjae normally wore, and his wings still had that strange, tight fold to them. Junhong looked oddly flat when on his stomach. 

Youngjae eyed his black, broad feathers. Junhong's wings were powerful. He had to be good at long distances once he got in the air.

His hand spread over the feathers. They were mostly in line, but Youngjae found the small mislaid barbs and straightened them. Junhong’s wings had a constant near-oily look to them, the result of strong waterproofing.

Despite it, they were some of the softest feathers Youngjae had ever touched. He trailed his hand from the bones to the tips of Junhong’s primaries, relishing the feel of his feathers. “Feel good?” Youngjae’s voice came out rougher than he intended. He blinked at the sound, glad Junhong couldn’t see his flaming face, and cleared his throat.

Junhong hummed, and Youngjae’s fingers smoothed over a spot near his shoulder that made his left wing twitch. Youngjae did it again, and Junhong sucked in a deep breath. 

“So much for sleeping, I guess.” He twisted to look up at Youngjae.

Youngjae hummed. “Do you want to?” As he spoke, he continued working his way through Junhong’s wing, rubbing in between them when he finished smoothing feathers. Small soft feathers dotted the area between his shoulder blades. 

Junhong shook his head. “Can I do you?” He seemed hesitant to even ask. Youngjae ignored that, and they swapped places. His wings fell further open, and Junhong’s touch was soft and near barely there as he made minute feather adjustments. Without flying, not much happened to their wings. When Youngjae was a kid, preening sometimes took hours, his feathers mislaid from the air forced through them.

Junhong’s hand came to rest between his wings, but it lingered, not only stroking down Youngjae's small gray-green feathers. “I can feel your heartbeat.” He sounded a little awed. “Is it always this fast?” 

Even Youngjae’s resting heartbeat was near three-hundred beats per minute.

Youngjae nodded. He let his eyes drop shut again. Junhong’s touch both set him on edge and left him wanting to relax into it. “’S normal.” His own exhaustion had risen like the tide once he’d laid down, and Junhong’s hand was warm on his back.

“It feels like you’re vibrating.” He should see when it sped up after he ran or something. It got even faster then. “Here—” Junhong shifted him, grabbing his hand. Youngjae let him take it, opening an eye to watch him. “Feel mine.” He pressed Youngjae’s hand to his chest, and Youngjae’s heartbeat jolted a little faster.

He ignored it. Junhong’s heart was a steady thump against his fingers. It didn’t shock Youngjae—he’d felt others’ hearts before—but he couldn’t help but wonder how different it would feel to have that in his chest.

Youngjae tried to figure out how to phrase his thoughts and met Junhong’s eyes. When he did, the beat under his fingers sped up.

**

Himchan nudged Youngjae’s shoulder. “Look at those two,” he said, his voice barely there as he nodded towards Daehyun and Yongguk. As always, the two had shifted closer together, but they still had a considerable distance between them.

Youngjae rolled his eyes. “We’ll all be dead before they actually act on that.” He’d watched the two dance around each other since his and Daehyun’s second year. 

“Speaking of”—why did Youngjae get the feeling Himchan had only wanted a lead in?—“I heard you met someone.”

“Hmm?” It took Youngjae a beat to realize who Himchan must be referring to. “Did Daehyun tell you that? Honestly.” He couldn't totally hide his blush.

“Overexaggeration?” 

Youngjae wanted to say yes, but the memory of waking up curled in bed with Junhong blocked his throat. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “But you’re the last person I want to talk to about this so—” He made as though preparing to stand up, but Himchan caught his hand. 

“You don’t need to tell me everything,” he said. Youngjae held back a retort asking how much it hurt him to say that. “But what’s he like?” 

Junhong wasn’t a secret or anything, but his friends tended to fly with ideas as soon as they got them. Whatever was growing between him and Junhong still felt fragile, like if Youngjae talked about it, it would crumble away.

“He’s—sweet. A little quiet. Friendly.” If Himchan hadn't noticed his warm face before, he had to now.

Himchan’s eyebrows rose. From the other chair, Jongup leaned in to catch their conversation. God forbid anything be private with these friends. 

Of course, that wasn’t fair, and he trusted Jongup. Youngjae motioned him over, and Jongup hopped to get onto the high seat. When they’d furnished the apartment, Daehyun had had to special-order their furniture because of his wing-size. The normal backless chairs and couches would’ve let his feathers drag on the ground.

Across the room, Daehyun laughed at something Yongguk said. They had gotten marginally closer, and Youngjae could see the stiffness in how Daehyun held his wings. 

“He a student?” Their friend group had become relatively mixed in the past couple years. Himchan, Yongguk, and Daehyun had all graduated while he and Jongup still attended.

“Yeah, we met ‘cause Dae’s his T.A.” 

Himchan hummed. His wings fell closer to the ground than Jongup’s, though he still wouldn’t have needed the higher seating. The speckled brown feathers hung low, open just far enough for Youngjae to catch the orange-red underwings. He had soaring wings, perfect for when in the open but clumsy anywhere with obstacles. 

Jongup and Himchan were constantly giving each other the run-around. Youngjae had watched them too often to think there was anything serious in the way they teased each other. Himchan would try to force Jongup into the open, where he’d fly slower and flappier, and Jongup darted through the trees, reaching speeds Himchan couldn’t hope to match while also navigating through branches.

It was a kinder, milder version of the teasing between Jongup and Daehyun. Even after all these years, Youngjae still couldn’t totally tell if it was a game on Jongup’s end whenever he rushed through the trees to escape Daehyun. With the sheer length of Daehyun’s wings, he could hardly even enter the forest.

Youngjae rarely watched them fly these days. He used to go and read sometimes, demuring any questions about his wings with an eye-roll and a 'flying's just exercise anyway.' Or at least, he mostly avoided the questions.

Daehyun’s paled, shocked face flashed in his vision, the echoes of him pleading with Youngjae to drink more of his sugar water heavy in his ears. Youngjae had been shaking, horrified more by the sensation of his wings failing him than by the actual fall.

Flying wasn’t worth it anyway. 

“Still with us?” Himchan was staring. His brows were furrowed, and he waved a hand in front of Youngjae's eyes. Youngjae scowled and caught it.

“Sorry.” Youngjae had always had a zoning out problem, but that one he couldn’t blame on his genetics. “What did you say?”

“You were telling me about the guy you met?” 

Right. “His name’s Junhong,” he said, his voice lower than necessary. “He’s—just really sweet.”

Himchan snorted. “Yeah, that’s about all you’ll say. What’s he look like?”

Easy question; Junhong’s face had burned into Youngjae’s memory. “Tall, bright smile, black hair and wings.” Youngjae paused. “But, like, not generic.”

“Oh—the guy from before?” Jongup looked away to summon the memory. “I met him, right?”

“Kinda?” Youngjae shrugged. “You’d just gotten back.” He snagged his sugar water off the table and took a sip. A sour look made its way onto Himchan’s face, but Youngjae ignored it.

Himchan found his easy energy the utmost disgrace to both food and water. And like, yeah, it wasn’t Youngjae’s favorite either, but it was either that or die, so.

“Am I the only one who didn’t know about him?” Himchan twisted the conversation out of its silence. 

“Shocking, right?” Youngjae couldn’t help but rise to the bait. “Considering you’re the nosiest.”

“I’m offended you’d say that with Daehyun around.”

Youngjae hid a grin and held his hands up like a scale, pretending to think it over as he balanced invisible weights.

Himchan smacked him hard on the chest, and a loud exclamation escaped him as he slipped back half-off the seat. His wings flared out to stop him from losing his balance. They flapped several times, already too fast for the eye to follow, before Youngjae could stop them. 

With every motion, his right wing smacked Himchan, an unintended but appropriate response. He raised his arms to protect his face, his hair ruffled. 

“Careful,” Youngjae said, once he’d gotten them under control. “I’m armed.”

Himchan retaliated with a single, strong strike to the back of Youngjae’s head. “Idiot.” But Youngjae’s wings had his entire attention.

Youngjae had never told anyone but Daehyun and Junhong why he didn't fly.

**

“Have you ever considered jumping off something high?”

_“What?”_

Youngjae’s own words registered, and he stuttered. “I didn’t mean— I meant—wait—” 

Junhong was clearly unimpressed with him. He laid on his stomach on the grass, stretching his wings out. Youngjae’s position matched his, their feathers overlapping. 

“To fly, I mean.” Youngjae did his best to recover. “If it takes time to get lift, then why not just jump off something? That’s what Dae does.”

Junhong hummed. “Probably could. Back home we jump off cliffs and things.” Junhong had described his home island to Youngjae, who couldn’t quite imagine the rocky crags and cliffs, let alone the bodies of water with no shallow areas, only a sudden drop from land to deep sea. “It’s just risky, you know? At home, if I fuck up, I just brush the water. Here—the ground’s hard, man.”

“True. But you have to miss flying.” Youngjae stretched his arms out to bury awkwardness and the want to fidget. “I do, and it's been forever since I've flown.” He'd been seventeen when he decided it was more graceful for him to accept that part of him was gone, rather than cover his good childhood flying memories with flights that lasted only five minutes before he tired and returned to the ground.

Junhong shrugged. “Not really?” Youngjae made an incredulous sound before he could hold it back, but Junhong didn’t look angry. “No, I mean it. No one back home really does it for fun? It’s not that easy for us since we don’t soar.” He chuckled. "Actually, it kinda shocked me how many people here do it often."

That was a little like Yongguk, who spent most of his time on the ground. His reddish-brown, patterned wings were fully functional, but elliptical wings weren’t as specialized for forests as Jongup’s, nor meant for soaring in the open like Daehyun's or Himchan's. He could fly long distances, but he preferred shorter bursts of speed. Youngjae digested the new information with a couple slow nods.

“I miss the place a lot more." Junhong's face twisted into a longing grimace. "Like, I swim here of course, but it’s different. And it’s so flat. I miss the cliffs.”

Youngjae couldn’t relate. He’d grown up with adoptive parents not far from the university. But still, he latched onto what he could. “You swim?”

Junhong smiled, and it was as bright as the sunset behind them. “I love swimming. I dive for the team here, but just overall? The water’s so nice.”

Youngjae couldn’t relate there either. He had his own waterproofing on his feathers, but it was more meant for rain, not complete submergence. Even long showers under a gentle faucet could soak his wings through.

“I’ve never gone swimming,” he admitted. Junhong's smile slipped off his face, and Youngjae hurried onward to fix it. “Tell me about it?”

It popped back into existence, quick and easy. “It’s a rush. The water’s cold, but you stay warm. There’re bubbles everywhere, and every time you move there’s more. Sometimes it’s all dark, except for the light from the surface.”

It sounded… claustrophobic, more than anything else, but Youngjae didn’t voice that thought. “You must really miss it,” he murmured. 

"Probably like you miss soccer.”

The reference hit him like a gunshot. Youngjae had only thought of flying. “I still play soccer.”

"But it's different," Junhong insisted. Youngjae had admitted to him why he no longer played for a team, explained his own guilt that his skills came from his genes, not hard work.

He didn't answer.

“Why don't you try flying again?” Junhong asked. "Maybe you're better at it than you think." Youngjae had believed that once. Then he'd only lasted twenty minutes. 

He couldn't meet Junhong's eyes. Youngjae wished everything was that easy, that all there was to flying was trying again. “That’s just how it is,” he said breezily, like it didn't matter. He didn’t want to get into it. “I just can't fly.”

“You could.” 

“Junhong, don’t.” He didn’t understand. As if stubbornness alone would keep Youngjae from flying. It was complicated. Everything was complicated, and the way everyone seemed to know more about it than him only exhausted him further.

It hurt too much to watch the ability fade away for him to keep trying. Youngjae didn't want to know the exact time he totally lost the ability; he'd rather face it with dignity and acceptance and remember the flights of his childhood, not his current failures. 

Junhong dropped it, casting a nervous glance at him and biting his lip. Youngjae swallowed a groan. Great, now he’d offended him.

“Can I see you dive sometime? Or swim?” His question was a little desperate; he didn't want to ruin everything.

Junhong perked back up, but Youngjae couldn’t stop scanning him for anger or wariness or anything lasting and bad.

**

Youngjae panted in the goal, his heart racing in his chest. He couldn’t stop smiling. 

The smile came from both the game and because of Daehyun, who had never had good balance with how oversized his wings were. He stumbled across the field, and they bounced against his back, his gait uneven and lopsided. 

They’d forced Youngjae to be goalkeeper, mostly because he’d dominate too much on the actual field. Junhong was across the way, in the other goal. Youngjae couldn’t help but grin at the sight of him. He was awkward in the goal, hands slightly spread at his sides. Junhong clearly didn’t know the length of the goal yet.

His uncertainty made Youngjae appreciate him trying even more.

Himchan had stolen the ball from Daehyun, and he and Jongup passed it back and forth. Jongup was fast, though not quite as quick as Yongguk, but they both tired easily. Himchan and Daehyun were best at endurance.

Sure enough, it was Himchan who neared the goal, as Jongup had slowed by the time they reached that part of the field. 

Youngjae’s mind worked best under these circumstances, the less-than-a-second moment when he registered how Himchan was kicking and where it was going. He’d blocked it before he knew it, but it had also gone impossibly slow, his mind calculating and quick.

Himchan’s mouth dropped open—he was a good player and that kind of shot would've gone in against most other goalies—but he didn’t look angry. Still, there wasn’t any ‘good job!’ or any of the normal things that made Youngjae feel like a charity case. 

He puffed out his chest under their lack of attention, and for once, the taste of sugar water wasn’t enough to kill his high. 

A week later, when Junhong spotted Youngjae in the stands near the pool, he reflected the same pride. He accepted a towel and dried off, waiting for the score on his dive. Youngjae couldn’t stop staring as the water droplets ran off Junhong's feathers and skin.

Junhong didn’t miss flying because he flew through the water.

**

Hearing Daehyun clearly shouldn’t have been possible at such a distance. His wings, maybe, but his voice?

“Jonguppie!” He had perched on a huge branch sticking out of the forest. Daehyun knew better than to try to weave within branches. 

He’d hit a tree once, and even Daehyun’s parents still gave him a bad time over it. Youngjae had spent twenty minutes holding back laughter as they scolded him--‘Twenty-three years with those wings and he still doesn’t know how they work!’

Youngjae could see the faint explosions of red as Jongup hopped and flew through branches. Himchan circled lazily above, and Yongguk had settled on a low branch not far away.

Junhong’s breath ghosted against his neck. He’d pulled Youngjae back nearly into his lap and had started running his fingers over the smaller feathers on his back. Youngjae leaned back into his chest to watch the others.

“Five bucks says Jongup refuses to come out.” Junhong spoke directly into his ear. Yongjae held back a shiver.

“That’s stupid. Of course he’ll ignore Daehyun.” They were resting in a small mowed section of a field, and the grasses around them came up nearly to Youngjae’s waist. It was full of fall flowers, yellow goldenrod and purple asters and a whole list of others. Junhong had picked a few, and they were now spread through Youngjae’s hair.

“I wonder how long he’ll keep shouting." Junhong giggled. He still hadn't gotten used to how loud Daehyun could be as compared to the professional image he tried to sport at work.

Youngjae shifted so he could hear Junhong’s heartbeat. “The rest of his life.”

“We’ll have to take him out then.”

The line took a second to register, but a clap of laughter escaped him when it did. Junhong’s arms tightened around his chest to keep him in place.

Youngjae tilted his head back to watch. It wasn’t as lonely on the ground anymore. He could occupy his thoughts with more than pure longing and that left him watching as though through new eyes.

Things he had already known had never looked so clear. Yongguk’s wings weren’t meant for height or distance. Daehyun couldn’t fly within the trees, and Jongup couldn’t fly well without them.

Youngjae hadn’t ever thought about it much. Maybe it was watching Junhong swim that spurred the thoughts.

He had never watched people with hovering wings fly. As a child, he'd just done whatever and never questioned it, and last time Youngjae had aimed to keep up with Daehyun. That seemed actively dumb now. Of course Youngjae's wings worked differently; of all their friends, Daehyun flapped his wings the least. Youngjae should’ve at least tried to match, say, Yongguk’s flying, if he was going to copy anyone.

Maybe that was where he went wrong? Maybe it wasn’t flying in general, but it was how he’d gone about doing it? Was his problem that he had never tried to fly like someone with hovering wings should?

But those thoughts were a lot. Flying was a lot. Youngjae wasn’t sure he was ready for something like that, no matter the answer to his question.

For now, he was happy with wings that gave him great reflexes, happy with wings that let him smack Daehyun when he deserved it. It sounded stupid, that his wings helped him play soccer, but it was true.

Youngjae had always thought of his reflexes as an unfair advantage over the others, but they all had strengths and weaknesses. It wasn't wrong for Junhong to swim because he loved it and missed it. Youngjae wasn't a cheat for loving soccer.

His wings may be for flying, but they did a lot more than that, and that was okay.

High above them, Jongup and Himchan met at the very top of a tree, an easy common point for them. Daehyun hung his wings out, letting the breeze cool him, and Yongguk balanced a notebook on a low branch, sitting cross-legged.

Youngjae dropped his eyes shut, and Junhong drew him even closer against his chest. He had time to figure things out; it was okay if he didn’t yet know everything.

And—he grinned at Junhong, who raised his eyebrows—he had a lot of things he wanted to explore in the future.

**Author's Note:**

> you've come to the wrong place if you're looking for subtlety in my metaphors
> 
> Wings references cause I like birds (jongup's my favorite and i may've cried when i saw them in the wild): [Yongguk,](https://images.ecosia.org/J4H2CXgDfJA5NXr_W1MES5Ph6vI=/0x390/smart/http%3A%2F%2Fstuffpoint.com%2Fbeautiful-birds%2Fimage%2F413240-beautiful-birds-american-tree-sparrow-spizella-arborea.jpg) [Himchan,](https://palmbeachcountynaturally.files.wordpress.com/2013/11/red-shouldered-hawk-11-17-2.jpg) [Daehyun,](http://wallpapersdsc.net/wp-content/uploads/2017/04/California-Condor-Computer-Wallpaper.jpg) [Youngjae,](https://feederwatch.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/02/Ruby-Throated-Hummingbird-1024x819.jpg) [Jongup, ](https://images.ecosia.org/1d7OmNS0bIQ-QigKvySo9lprSTQ=/0x390/smart/https%3A%2F%2Fafricanbirdclub.org%2Fafbid%2Fpublic%2Fimgdata%2Fphotos%2F799%2F7991393257635.jpg) and [Junhong](http://www.pictorem.com/collection/900_12252896HighRes.jpg)
> 
> Come say hi on [ tumblr :) ](https://onlystraightforjongup.tumblr.com/)


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